Week 24: Common goals
Today was my first day back to work after a […]
Today was my first day back to work after a much needed vacation. This morning, while getting ready, I stepped into my black pants, and to my surprise, I couldn’t zip the suckers up! I finally got to use the old-faithful rubber band trick. In a funny little way, it made my day. My belly button is also starting to do what we’ll call “its own thing.” It’s almost folding over, if that makes sense? I’m pretty stoked.
This last week has been pretty easy, breezy. There isn’t much to report, I’m sorry to say. I feel just overwhelmingly fulfilled right now—maybe it’s all the Oreos and milk I just downed—who knows? In my apparent food-coma, I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to share this week with other mommies. I’ve been thinking a lot about love.
From our first year together.
On Memorial Day, my fiancé Darrin and I celebrated our third anniversary together. And kids, (spoken in my Ted from “How I Met Your Mother” voice) it hasn’t always been easy. And it won’t be easy from here on out. Heck, we aren’t even married yet. It will surely get harder from here. I want to count backwards throughout these three short years to get to my point.
Last year (year two), Darrin and I were at a house party on the Fourth of July. We were sitting on the porch after a day of riding around on four-wheelers and a night of watching fireworks. We were laughing and talking about the future. Suddenly, we were talking about what we thought at the time would be way in the future: We were talking about kids. We both admitted we not only wanted them, but wanted them together. We even gave them names, with nicknames quickly to follow. It felt right to talk about it, the little dream we both shared.
Then I think back to the first year, which feels like forever ago. Darrin and I were at a neighborhood bar with friends after work, and we had just started spending time together. We were sitting outside under strung lights, and Darrin told me that he wanted to take care of me. And although I don’t remember all of the details of the conversation now, he says we discussed kids that night, too. It was the first of many of our common goals, spoken aloud.
Don’t get me wrong. I know that relationships aren’t perfect. I know that we’ll never be the perfect spouses or the perfect parents—because ‘perfect’ is intangible. I know that the definition of family takes on different shapes and sizes, and so does love. I’m OK with all of this, and not knowing what the future holds, as long as there is one constant: our common goal to love her. If all else fails, I know we’ll share this commonality for life. So, c’mon little one. We are ready.
